Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 48: The Mother-in-Law from Hell

Primrose wasn’t buying it.

"Atmospheric pressure" was a flimsy excuse. She knew how magic worked in Beastly B.A.D.S. Teleportation circles might fail in a storm, but simple "I’m Alive" pings? Those cut through anything.

Caspian was hoarding her.

So, she decided to investigate.

For the next two days, Primrose played the role of the dutiful Chef. She made Kimchi Jjigae (sealed in spicy dumplings). She made fluffy pancakes. She smiled.

But the moment Caspian went into his Meditation Cycle, she moved.

She tried to sneak into the Echo Room.

The door had a new lock. A biometric scale-scanner. She didn’t have scales.

She tried to bribe a guard with a cinnamon roll.

The guard took the roll, ate it, and then politely escorted her back to the kitchen, saying, "The King worries you might get lost."

She tried to eavesdrop on the Council Meeting through the water flow system pipes.

Just as she got into position, Caspian appeared floating right next to the vent.

"Chef," he said smoothly, leaning against the wall with a smirk. "The water flow system is for air circulation, not for eavesdropping. Besides, it is dusty in there. You hate dust."

He reached up, plucked a spiderweb off her ear, and steered her away.

"Come. Orion wants to show you a hexagon."

He was too good. He knew the palace like an architect (because he was one), and he knew her moves like a gamer (because he was one). He was blocking her at every turn, smiling that devastatingly handsome smile that made it hard to be mad at him.

But Primrose was stubborn. She was planning a break-in using a soup ladle and a hairpin when the trumpets sounded.

The blast of the Conch Horns shook the palace foundations.

"The Queen Dowager approaches!" a herald boomed, his voice trembling.

Caspian froze. The playful, relaxed demeanor he had worn for the last few weeks vanished instantly. His face hardened into a mask of stone. His shoulders tensed.

"Morana," he whispered. The name sounded like a curse.

"Who?" Primrose asked, wiping flour off her hands.

"My stepmother," Caspian said, his voice tight. "The Queen Dowager. The Guardian of Tradition. And the woman who made my life a living hell before I took the throne."

He turned to Primrose. "Stay in the kitchen. Hide Orion."

"No," Primrose said firmly, seeing the panic in his eyes. "If she’s the Grandma, she’s going to want to see the kid. And I’m the Nanny. I go where he goes."

Caspian looked at her. He wanted to argue, but the doors were already opening.

Queen Dowager Morana drifted in.

She was terrifying.

She had the lower body of a sea-serpent—long, black, and coiled. Her skin was a pale, icy blue, and she wore a crown of black coral that looked like thorns. Her eyes were violet and cold, scanning the room with a critical sneer. She didn’t look like a grandmother; she looked like a boss fight you weren’t leveled up for.

"Caspian," Morana said. Her voice sounded like grinding stones.

"Morana," Caspian replied, floating higher to assert dominance. "To what do I owe the... pleasure?"

"I heard rumors," Morana said, gliding forward. "Rumors that the Heir has woken. Rumors that you have allowed a... warm-blooded pet into the Royal Sanctum."

Her violet eyes locked onto Primrose. Then they flicked to Orion, who was clutching Primrose’s skirt.

"So," Morana sneered. "This is the nursemaid?"

"This is the Royal Dietician," Caspian corrected sharply. "Primrose."

Morana swam a circle around Primrose, inspecting her like a piece of livestock.

"A Fox," Morana scoffed. "And a defective one at that. Where is her tail? Did she lose it in a trap? A tail-less beast is an omen of bad luck in the deep."

Primrose stiffened. It was the one insecurity her transmigrated body had—the symbol of her failure as a Fox-kin.

"Mother," Caspian warned, his water-pressure rising.

"And you, Caspian," Morana ignored him, turning to the King. "You are still unwed. The Kingdom is unstable. The Heir is sickly because of your negligence. I have arranged a match. The Duchess of the Trench is waiting. You will marry her, stabilize the bloodline, and send this... creature... back to the mud."

"I refuse," Caspian said instantly. "I am not marrying anyone. And Primrose stays."

Morana laughed. It was a cruel, high-pitched sound.

"Stays? For what? Do you intend to marry her?"

She gestured at Primrose with a disgusted flick of her hand.

"Look at her, Caspian. She is a land-walker. She is a servant. She is broken. If she had a tail, perhaps she would be fit for a concubine, but as she is? She is nothing but an ugly curiosity. A pollution in our gene pool."

Orion whimpered.

That was it. The Nanny snapped.

Primrose stepped forward, putting herself between Morana and the boys. She looked the giant sea-serpent woman in the eye.

"You know," Primrose said, her voice calm and cutting. "On the surface, we have a saying. Beauty is skin deep, but ugly goes down to the bone."

Morana gasped. "How dare you—"

"I may lack a tail," Primrose interrupted, channeling her inner Chicago Chef. "But I also lack the ability to be rude to a child and his father in their own home. I fixed the Prince when your traditions let him starve. So, frankly, Your Majesty, you can take your opinion and float away with the rest of the trash."

The room went dead silent. The guards looked like they wanted to faint.

Morana’s face turned a violent shade of purple. "You... you insolent little parasite! Caspian! Execute her! She insults the Crown!"

"ENOUGH!"

The roar didn’t come from Morana. It came from Caspian.

The water in the room boiled. A shockwave of pure magical force slammed into the walls, cracking the coral pillars.

Caspian swam between Primrose and Morana. His eyes were glowing so bright they were almost white. He bared his sharp teeth, looking every inch the Monster King.

"Do not speak to her," Caspian snarled. "And do not speak to me of Marriage or Duty."

"I am trying to save your reign!" Morana shouted back, though she shrank away from his rage. "You need a wife! You need to control your life!"

"Control?!" Caspian laughed, a wild, broken sound. "You want to control me? Like you did five years ago?"

The air in the room grew heavy with a dark, terrible history.

"I never asked you!" Caspian shouted, his voice cracking with twenty-five years of trauma. "I never asked for a wife! I never asked for an heir! You drugged me, Morana! You forced a ritual on me while I was not myself! You brought a stranger into my bed and called it tradition!"

Primrose’s hand flew to her mouth. Oh god.

"You violated me," Caspian whispered, the rage turning into a horrific grief. "You made me a father against my will. And then you let the mother die and left me with a child I couldn’t even look at because he reminded me of what you did."

He pointed a trembling finger at the door.

"You have no right to tell me who to marry. You have no right to tell me who to keep. This is my Kingdom now. Not yours."

Caspian looked at Primrose. He looked at Orion.

"And for the first time in twenty-five years... I have chosen who stays in this room. And it isn’t you."

Morana looked at her stepson. She saw the raw, open wound of his past, and she saw the terrifying strength of his resolve.

She hissed, gathering her robes.

"You will regret this, Caspian," she spat. "The Land-Walker will ruin you."

She turned and fled the room, her retinue scrambling to follow.

The heavy doors slammed shut.

Caspian hung in the water, his chest heaving, his back to Primrose and Orion. He was shaking.

"Dad?" Orion whispered.

Caspian didn’t answer. He just covered his face with his hands, trying to hide the shame of the truth he had just screamed to the world.